


Coming and Going

by triedpklove



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Awkward Tension, Competition, First Meetings, Gen, Post-Break Up, Turf War, i use red sole and cuff interchangibly, red sole is like her full name and cuff is a nickname, vinskull is mentioned/canon, vintage and omega are siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedpklove/pseuds/triedpklove
Summary: Have you ever wondered how X-Blood came to be? The conditions of their meeting? How they managed to stand each other? It all starts with a message to a few X-Ranked players.
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

“So, have you contacted anyone yet?”  
“Yeah…” Vintage turns and shows Omega his monitor, the profiles for the highest ranked players showing up. “No one contacted me back yet, I don’t know how long it’ll take.”  
“Eh, I wouldn’t stress on it.”  
The two are in Vintage’s bedroom, snacking on a cold treat. The sun shines through the window, heating up the room as the day grows hotter. Vintage’s room is simple— the walls are a nice teal color covered with posters from various bands: Diss-Pair, Dedf1sh… some Off The Hook posters he tries to hide with other flyers and stickers he’s found. A small computer rests on a desk full of pots filled with succulents. The water spritzer glistens in the sunlight, as do the water droplets on the leaves of the plants.  
Vintage relaxes in his chair, staring at the unworn Takoroka Nylon Vintage he got from his ex-boyfriend as it hangs on the door, still in perfect condition. Omega lays on her stomach, staring at her brother as she takes a bite of her popsicle.  
“I just want to be able to get back into battle soon…” Vintage adverts his eyes back to the screen, sighing.  
“I know you’re still getting over your split with Skull, Vintage, but there comes a time where you just have to put yourself back into playing again.” She gives a soft smile. “It’s relaxing. Turf War is much less stressful than Ranked, and you know. When I’m depressed I go into Turf War and battle out my frustrations. You should try it out, too.” She finishes off her popsicle.  
“It’s just not the same-” Vintage looks over to Omega, his sister giving him puppy eyes. Groaning, he shuts off his computer and stands up. “Fine. If it makes you happy, I’ll try it out.”  
Omega hops off of his bed and nods. “I’ll come with you if it makes you more comfortable.”  
The two make their way out of his room before Omega looks up at his door and thinks to herself.  
“Hey Vintage…” Omega grabs the coat down from the door. “I heard it was going to be cold. I don’t want you to freeze. Why not wear this?”  
“That’s from Skull. I don’t want to seem weird for wearing a present from an ex.”  
“But it’s perfect for the weather. It fits you nicely, too.” She smiles. “Listen to your big sister.”  
“...by 4 minutes,” Vintage mumbles.  
“Time doesn't matter. I have authority over you. Wear the coat. I’ll wear mine.” Omega leaves to her room, a Kensa Coat draped over her Rockenberg Black t-shirt as she returns. Vintage reluctantly puts on the windbreaker and zips it up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he heads to the door, picking up his splatling and exiting. Omega understands his silence, grabbing her own and following suit.


	2. Off To The Races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of Turf War goes awry.

The two arrive in the square, splatlings carried in their appropriate bags. There was a strict rule of no open weaponry in the square, a practice of which their parents strictly reinforced. They made their way to the lobby, inklings and octolings alike staring at the pair. Mumbles about their recent ranked call-out could be heard, Vintage and Omega managing to ignore it all. It’s a skill they’ve learned throughout their life: you hear something you don’t want to, you easily tune it out.  
Entering the lobby room, they unzip their weapons from their cases and carry them into the Turf War waiting room. As they wait for the lobby to fill up, two other inklings sit near them. Omega analyzes them as her brother stares at his phone: in front of Omega sits a girl sporting light pink pigtails, hugging her Bloblobber tight as she kicks her legs. Two seats away from her is an inkling boy with his hands shoved in his pockets. By his feet lay a pair of Light Tetra Dualies, the ink inside colored a dark blue, matching the color of his tentacles.  
Nudging Vintage’s shoulder, Omega asks, “Any guesses on their level?” She smiles slightly, hoping it distracts her brother.  
“Faux-hawk isn’t anything above 65. I would be surprised if Pigtails wasn’t lower than 40. If we get matched with them, they’ll just bring us down.”  
Omega nods and looks at her phone as she waits. Both she and her brother are in the high 80’s, a threat to anyone under level 50 they believe. It makes them happy, though, because it gives them a sense of power they have worked hard to feel.  
A minute passes and the lobby fills up. The members of the lobby are redirected to two different spawn points, the eight cephalopods transported to a battle location.  
It’s The Reef. Omega has always liked to visit The Reef in her free time, exploring the stores and taking in the ambiance of passing cars and tweeting birds.  
The teams begin to spawn, Vintage and Omega being matched with the two inklings Omega observed before the match. The two quietly groaned, looking over to the excited inkling, tentacles now a light blue color to match the rest of the team.  
“Hiiiii!” she squeaked.  
“U-Uhm… hi?” Omega tried not to make eye contact with the girl, but the lack of acknowledgment just made things more awkward.  
“My name’s Red Sole, but some call me Cuff, Pigtails… a myriad of names. It gets hard to remember!”  
Omega remains silent, second-hand embarrassment filling her body.  
The countdown begins to start to the match’s beginning, the perky girl spouting, “Hope you have fun with me carrying you the entire time!” as the whistle sounds and the clock starts.  
Omega grips her Nautilus 47. A record scratch plays in her head, embarrassment turning into competitiveness. As the girl makes her way with the dualie player, the two charge their splatlings at spawn.  
“If we don’t prove ourselves as the superior members of the team, I am going to blow.”  
“Now, Omega, Turf War is a calming experience.” Vintage mocks her words, the same anger brewing in his head. He’s always been able to keep himself level physically, even when he’s furious. He makes his way off of the spawn point, inking the spawn. Omega follows suit, chuckling to herself, “At least we know it’s important to cover every inch with our ink. Stupid girl.”  
The four make their way around the map, the siblings staying back while the other two explore. Vintage sits at the bridge, refilling and aiming his Ballpoint Splatling as he takes down enemies. From behind comes the dashes of a pair of dualies. “Here, man, I’ll help out.”  
“I don’t need help.”  
“You sure? You seem just to be shooting in a straight line. Your strat is off.” The inkling makes his way forward and splats an octoling coming to take down the anchor. As the opponent returns to his spawn, one of his teammates super-jumping to his previous location.  
“Here, bowlcut, you take care of this one. I’ll make sure no one takes you down.” He makes his way down the bridge to fend off enemies.  
“...Bowlcut…” Vintage camps the super-jumping inkling, a whimper comping from the spot as the splat is successfully made. A small smirk appears on his face, the corners of his mouth returning to their resting position as he continues to ink, his focus on the match increasing.  
Meanwhile, Omega’s trying her best to splat everyone in her sight, inking every corner of turf she can find. One Point Sensor after another are thrown, anyone being caught in the sub meeting their demise. Quickly, her Baller activates, moving into an active area before being ambushed by a Foil Flingza Roller, a pair of Dualie Squelchers, and an Octo Shot. She detonates her Baller, the Octo Shot being the only one affected. As she charges her splatling, the two prepare to take her down. As she braces, a Splash Wall appears in front of her as the roller and the dualies are taken out by bouncing bubbles of ink. The two float back to their spawn, the pigtail-ed girl passing by with a wink. Omega growls, chasing after her. She catches up to the girl, inking right next to her. The two race to see who can cover the more ink, shoving, giggles, and grumbles included. The two end up in the corner the map, the Blobblobber-slinging inkling’s back against the wall. Omega leans in, her splatling in hand.  
“Pigtails, I don’t-”  
“Pigtails? That’s one of my least favorite nicknames.” She pouts.  
“But you- um, Cuff, I don’t understand why you want to be so competitive, but save that for Ranked. I’m here to destress, not to deal with people thinking they own the world.”  
“So that’s the one you choose! I like it~.” She giggles, “Well, Bangs, I’ve always seen Turf War as a destresser, too. Maybe it’s you taking it so seriously!” Cuff pokes Omega’s nose, shoving her out of the way. “Ease up! It’s all good fun.” She grips her weapon. “Oh, and by the way, I’m a level 67. You and your friend are wayyyy off!” She skips off, lobbing blobs of ink about the ground.  
“...My name’s Omega.” A small blush crosses her face, turning around and going back to inking the map.  
The four continue to ink the map, an overwhelming victory as a result. As they ready to leave back to the lobby, Vintage feels a tap on his shoulder.  
“Hey, bowlcut, ” The shaded inkling smiles, “You’re good at this! I thought you were one of those tryhards that bring weapons they think they’re good at out onto the playing field, but you kept the enemy DOWN! You must’ve been doing this for a while!”  
“...Tryhard?”  
“Uh, yeah! It’s like wh-”  
“...I am not a tryhard, and if you think I am, you are extremely wrong. I have been training all my life with the splatling and I did not get to this point only or you to think I’m a tryhard.”  
“Damn, I’m sorry! Someone’s prissy! You shouldn’t take everything too seriously.” He shoves his hands in his pocket.  
“...It’s Vintage, also. Not bowlcut. Don’t call me that.”  
“Well, that’s polite. My name’s Double Egg. Hoping we can meet up again soon!”  
“Hmm… No, thanks.”  
The eight players return to the lobby, Vintage and Omega exiting.  
“Well, I think that was enough for me. Can we go home?”  
“Mhm. Gladly.”  
The two walk back to their house, stopping for snacks on the way. They throw open the door, tossing their weapons by the door along with their coats. The two return to Vintage’s room, Omega sitting back down on her brother’s bed, Vintage in his computer chair.  
“Oh, you should check if anyone has gotten back.”  
Vintage nods and turns on his computer, peeking at the responses. His ear twitches, rolling away from the desk to show Omega. “These are the only two replies. Look at their rank, just barely X.”  
Omega freezes, putting her head in her hands. “Well… I guess if they’re the only ones. They seem qualified, too, I guess.”  
Vintage gulps. “I’ll message them back then.” He puts his fingers down on the keyboard and begins to type.

“Double Egg, Red Sole. We would be glad to have you on our team. We begin practice tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw a good actual start to the story! hope you guys like it!


End file.
